Sleep makes the silence and the terrible fear go by more quickly, helps pass the time, since it's impossible to kill.

Yesterday was my unlucky day. I pricked my right thumb with the blunt end of a big needle.

I have always been the dunce, the never-do-well of the family, I've always have to pay double for my deeds, first with the scolding and then again because of the way my feelings are hurt.

I could spend hours telling you about the suffering the war has brought, but I'd only make myself more miserable. All we can do is wait, as calmly as possible, for it to end...the whole world is waiting, and many are waiting for death.

It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

Then there're Theseus, Oedipus, Peleus, Orpheus, Jason and Hercules all waiting to be untangled, since their various deeds are running crisscross through my mind like multicolored threads in a dress.

I wonder if it's because I haven't been able to poke my nose outdoors for so long that I've grown so crazy about everything to do with Nature?